Death Crimson

“I Will Choose to Open the Red Door!”

“Kuso!”
Deathly art by @Edupatilla.

We’ve talked before about the term “kusogē” on this website, and how Japan’s perspective on bad games can often differ from ours here in the States. To sum it up succinctly: Our tendency in America when faced with a piece of lacklustre software is to launch into performatively angry tirades, where we curse their names and urge the rest of the world not to waste their precious time on them. When presented with a perceived failure along the lines of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, we’re quick to condemn it as trash, and to promptly discard it. As a stark contrast: Japan’s gaming community can sometimes embrace these bad games with open arms; finding ways to appreciate these releases in the face of their flaws — or even for their flaws, as the case may be. Flying in the face of American sentiment, the stink of a “shit game” may actually serve as alluring to prospective Japanese players, in search of charmingly wretched and challengingly busted titles. In some rare instances, this sort of morbid curiosity can even occasionally correlate with increased sales, making successes of games that would otherwise sink studios here in the West.

Today’s game is one such case; where negative reception and word of mouth reportedly saved it from the hell of obscurity, and made a moderate success of what should’ve been a company-killer. Not only that, but it would go on to become the signature franchise for a developer / publisher who has continued to persist for nearly 25 years in the industry — with semi-annual fan meet-ups still centered around the release in question. And when the popular portmanteau for Japan’s shit games was eventually coined, it would fall on this title to take up the prestigious mantle of ‘クソゲーの帝王 (The Emperor of Kusogē).’ I could be referring to none other than Death Crimson: Ecole Software’s 1996 CD-ROM for the Sega Saturn, serving as perhaps the console’s single-most infamous piece of software.

In this article, we’ll be dissecting this disreputable rail shooter in order to examine all its mechanical details and historical merits. Of course, telling the story of the so-called ‘Death-sama’ also requires recapping the story of Ecole themselves, which we’ll also be doing our best to relay. Along the way, I hope to find the answers to several questions: Is Death Crimson truly the worst game the Saturn has to offer? How exactly did it come to cement its legacy? And perhaps most pertinently for our purposes: Is it still worthy of its title as the King of Kusogē? The only way to find out is to set our Crimson’s sights on the monster ahead, and to bravely combat roll forward.

“今伝説は始まる
(The legend begins now).”^[1]

“Gems, Ancient Documents, and Guns, Respectively.”

Ecole Software has its starts in the year 1989, where it was founded by one Manabe Yoshiyuki during his time in graduate school. By his own account, the motivation to start the business came as the result of a two-month trip to Europe; which saw him returning home with just 100,000円 (roughly $1,000) to his name, and the need for some quick cash.^[2] With Manabe’s education being one in nuclear engineering, he found that he was able to apply his tech-savviness towards the field of computer software design, with his company’s early products dealing in industrial CAD (Computer-Aided Design) software. For an example of the sort of product Ecole was putting out around this time: ‘ZetaWin’ served as the company’s premiere product line, and sold to pipe-fitters looking to design blueprints in 3D. According to Ecole’s website [circa 1997], this represented just one of “nearly 100 applications” they had developed during this phase of their business. But as steady as the work might’ve been, Manabe and company yearned to develop more exciting software.

The opportunity presented itself with the launch of the Sega Saturn in late 1994. By this point, Ecole’s staff consisted of between four to six employees, with Manabe taking on a ‘Producer’ position. He may have been pretty well-versed in computer programming and software development, but writing game code specifically seemed to require a different kind of skill set altogether. As a matter of fact, the task of game programming seemed to be assigned to a revolving door’s worth of employees, with each new release swapping staff in and out of the role. The ‘Game Program’ credit for their first title – Pappara Paoon – was attributed to an “S. Ata,” who would have already left Ecole by the time their second game had gone into production. Speaking of the company’s debut game, let’s talk a little more about Pappara Paoon, and see if we can spot any early trademarks of the studio.

Ecole’s first release for the Saturn takes the form of a 1-vs-1 puzzle game; where players attempt to match colored tiles in configurations of four or more in order to remove them from play / drop more tiles on their opponent’s side of the screen. The gimmick here is that both players share the same playfield, with the mass of tiles moving back and forth between sides of the screen in a state of perpetual tug-of-war. If the edge of the stack reaches an edge of the screen, that player loses the match. It’s a novel enough take on the ol’ Puyo Puyo formula in concept; but in execution, it’s rough as guts. Where a good puzzle game should allow players the opportunity to come back from any deficit (provided they’re quick and clever enough), Pappara Paoon can [and will] force sudden losses at seemingly any moment — even on competitors currently holding advantage. The unpredictable / uncontrollable ways the game deals with garbage are enough to drive a player mad.

There’s also the matter of presentation that needs discussing. Simply put, it’s heinous: A complete hodgepodge of clashing aesthetic choices and garish coloration, compounded by downright abominable 3D character graphics. Surreal cutscenes serve to introduce new characters / competitors in the single player mode; obviously intending to impart some sort of dream-like quality, but coming across more along the lines of nightmarish. Even the font treatments are fairly rotten all-around. Obviously, none of this is to say that graphics are a be-all end-all factor in how games should be rated and evaluated. But with the Saturn being nearly a year past launch at this point, and marketing itself primarily on its ability to drive arcade-adjacent 3D graphics, Pappara Paoon wasn’t exactly a flattering demonstration of those particular capabilities.

To be clear here, this isn’t just me looking back on the game with modern-era snark goggles: Reviewers back in the day rated Pappara Paoon as an ugly dud on debut. Excerpts from Japan’s Sega Saturn Magazine compared the polygonal visuals to those seen in antiquated educational television.^[3] As for the gameplay, consensus seemed to be that the CPU could be downright unfair, and that half of winning was up to “the element of luck.” By the measure of one reviewer; the first player to score a two or three chain effectively cinches the win, robbing from any sense of “push-and-pull” tension. Come the end of the Saturn’s lifespan / end of publication for Sega Saturn Magazine, the game’s place in their final “Reader Race” rankings would rate it 938th out of 945 titles — averaging a score of 2.4491 [out of 10].^[4] I suppose the question that remains is, “How much lower can we go?”

Undeterred by the lacklustre reception to their debut game software, Ecole set about the development of their next title. The Saturn would remain their target platform — since their initial entering into Sega’s ecosystem likely required a substantial investment for their company, and it would probably bankrupt them to give up now. Expanding their audience and recouping their costs would require a new approach: Figuring out what genre the Saturn’s library most lacked in representation for, and providing a game to fill that niche. As it would turn out, there was a perfect candidate in the “rail shooter” format; where only the home conversion of Virtua Cop existed thus far, and served then as the only game supporting the accompanying ‘Virtua Gun’ (or ‘Stunner,’ in the States) peripheral. And so, the opportunity presented itself to Ecole: Develop a game that could support the Virtua Gun, and leverage the existing audience for Virtua Cop who were looking to justify the purchase of their pricey peripheral. Furthermore; where Pappara Paoon had been constrained by its EOCS ‘All Ages’ certification, this shooting game would allow Ecole to showcase their “dark” side… while still managing to rate with the same All Ages certification, at the end of the day.

As one of the first orders of business related to this second game, the company would be going on a few field trips. I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to suggest that architecture and world travel play major roles in the theming and design of Ecole’s developed games — with even the prior Pappara Paoon paying some pretty evident nods to Hinduistic culture and aesthetic.** As such, one of the very first things you’ll see when booting up Death Crimson is the developer’s logo set in front of a pair of stone faces, from photos taken of a statue situated on the shore of Hokkaido’s Lake Toya. In fact, this small monument serves as something of an homage / adaptation of a previously existing sculpture entitled ‘Light of the Moon,’ as originally envisioned by Polish sculptor Igor Mitoraj. Perhaps in setting their their logo in front of this image, Ecole was intending to demonstrate their own appreciation for foreign culture and design, much as the commissioner who sought to bring the Light of the Moon to Japan? More likely: The team’s designated photographer simply thought the statue near Lake Toya looked kind of creepy, and decided to incorporate it into the game solely on that merit.

Further inspo was reportedly drawn from Manabe’s visiting Egypt — most demonstrably inspiring a set of stages in the game taking place around pyramids decorated in hieroglyph. Beyond the clear architectural inspiration on display there, Manabe would also testify as to hearing the voices of “chaotic darkness” during his touring, suggesting the source of some of the further theming and plot points of the game.^[5] As if all that wasn’t enough: At some point between standing in sheer awe of the pyramids and being overcome by whispers in his head, he also thought about how “funny” it might look to see a plastic Virtua Gun covered in a thick coat of desert sand, and apparently vowed then and there to incorporate that into the game somehow. In case it wasn’t already evident here; Manabe and company were certainly an eccentric lot, and it’s hard to tell what quotes from them are actually meant to be taken seriously.

Perhaps the most infamous result of Death Crimson’s associated travels and location shoots though came with Ecole’s visit to the Yura Fortress: A coastal military fortification nestled within the Tomogashima islands, left largely abandoned since the end of World War II. With a camcorder in hand, Manabe tasked himself with taking a walking tour of the ruins — demonstrating some of the shakiest handheld recording ever captured on video. What may have well been originally intended as visual reference – footage from which graphic artist “M. Yoshimatsu” may have been meant to draw some design inspiration from – ended up getting used as-is in the game itself, as part of its opening FMV. It felt as if no available asset or yen spent would go to waste or not make its way into the final product, as Ecole packed their masterpiece to the brim. As it would turn out, this wasn’t entirely the case: It does appear as if Ecole’s aspirations did get ahead of the Saturn’s hardware capabilities at a certain point, requiring what appears to be a particularly brutal optimization pass. This would see level geometry and detail significantly reduced from previews sent to press, as well as removing some characters originally meant to appear in the game.

Preview screenshots from Sega Saturn Magazine, Vol. 1996-09 / June 14th, 1996. (Scan available)

One of the final pieces of the puzzle was giving voice to the game’s protagonist: The soon-to-be-notorious ‘Combat Echizen.’ Meant to be depicted as a 6-foot tall, 150 pound, 29 years-rough military veteran; the role would go to an enigmatic actor by the name of ‘Seijirou,’ whose performance in Death Crimson is commonly likened to that of a teenage boy in a high school-set “Boys’ Love” visual novel. For years following the game’s release (due to a lack of proper in-game accreditation), it was widely believed that the voice acting was provided by some uncredited member of the Ecole staff, as there could be no other reason for such an unfitting bit of vocal casting. But lo and behold nearly a decade later, a more seasoned Seijirou emerged to accept his credit as Echizen, while acting as a guest of honor at a 2007 Ecole fan event. In addition to revealing that he had remained active in the voice acting world (providing the voice of Billy Kane in King of Fighters, as well as a number of other commercial works), he was good enough a sport to answer a series of questions in-character as Echizen, as asked by none other than Manabe himself.

Of course, all this ambition and creativity meant to be showcased by the game was stifled some by a simple fact: Nobody within Ecole still really knew what the hell they were doing when it came to game development. Not only that, but with so few staffers on hand, each of them were being made to play multiple roles within the team simultaneously — between direct game development duties, helping to compose the instruction booklet, and additionally designing merchandise and promotional material for the game.^[6] None of this is to even mention that Ecole were likely still supplementing their income (if not outright funding their game development entirely) through continued CAD software development. In later retrospect, Manabe would compare the game’s production cycle to something like trying to “fill a small bucket with 10 times its total capacity,” and continuing even after the bottom has burst open.^[5b]

Despite all the obstacles placed in front of them, and their collective ambitions far outweighing their aptitude; Ecole managed to put together what they had of Death Crimson in time for a slated August 9th, 1996, Japan-exclusive launch. Now, I say “put together what they had” instead of “finish the game completely,” because what they actually ended up sending to Sega for certification in no way resembled a finished product. By Manabe’s account, he had to make a passionate personal appeal to the heads of Sega’s quality assurance division, in the hopes they might overlook some of the more glaring issues with the game and approve it for pressing.^[5c] Evidently, his begging and persuading worked, and Death Crimson was shockingly given the green light. Not only that, but it was approved to be sold at full retail price of ¥5,800 — whereas Pappara Paoon before it had been more appropriately priced at a ¥4,800 value. For those who would pay this toll, true terror would await them.

** Between iconography and UI design heavily incorporating peacocks (tipping their hat to the role of ‘Mayura’ in Hindu mythology), architecture reminiscent of historic Indian design, and the role of elephants clearly modeled after Ganesha in operating the game: It’s pretty clear here what parts of the world Ecole were drawing their design influences from in the case of Pappara Paoon. Whether or not all those elements pay due respect to Hinduism? It’s not really my place to say.

“The Gun ‘Crimson’ is the Key!”

Death Crimson Japanese cover.

In 1986, a trio of mercenaries in the Marumara Army found themselves on the run from an enemy helicopter. Emerging from the forest, they took refuge in ruins unknown to them, and soon discover a shocking sight: A staircase. After overcoming this apparently confounding hurdle – exclaiming “What is this staircase?!” as they trepidatiously ascend – they found themselves further confronted by three distinctly colored doors, and must each pick their own to open and enter. A young Echizen Kousuke loudly proclaims “Because it’s so difficult, I will choose to open the red door,” before opening the visibly green-tinted door before him.** Within, our hero finds a strange firearm, which he will eventually come to refer to as ‘Crimson.’ As for his comrades in arms: Danny finds a cache of precious jewels behind his door, while Greg discovers ancient books containing wealths of knowledge behind his. Each emerging with their personal share of spoils in hand, the three soldiers decide to desert from their unit, and return to their respective homelands with treasures in tow.

In the 10 years that follow, the three men fail to maintain contact with one another. Greg uses the knowledge found within the ancient texts to become an archaeologist and scholar, while residing in the Limburg province of the Netherlands. Danny uses the fortunes earned from selling his jewels to establish himself as a successful businessman, setting up shop in the Greek city of Thessaloniki (“Saronica” in-game). Naturally, in following the theme here of each ex-soldier using their treasure to build a better life for themselves; Echizen uses the destructive power of Crimson to establish himself as… a medical practitioner? Apparently, he doesn’t even make for all that great a doctor either, since he finds himself absolutely powerless to prevent the spread of a deadly new disease known as ‘KOT Syndrome’ (Kiss Of the Tomb) in the present year of 1996. That being said, he is apparently clever enough to intuit that this plague is somehow connected to the mysterious ruins from a decade ago, and attempts to track down his pair of former mercenary pals in order to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Now, hopefully – between the intro cinematic and the instruction manual laying out the plot – you’ve committed all these key details to memory. Because when it comes time to get into the game itself, absolutely none of these crucial points or characters are ever once addressed again. If you were hoping to have any of these threads developed on, you’d have to wait for the sequel to reference them, during the parts of the game laid out as a visual novel — but that’s getting WAY ahead of ourselves. On its own, Death Crimson never serves to advance the plot it establishes or resolve any of the threats presented: It’s an entirely narrative-free rail shooting experience, where the action serves as the only driving force. About the only aspect from the intro / manual that pops up again in the game is the appearance of a scorpion-esque monster ‘Death Visnos,’ who ultimately serves as the game’s final boss.

It’s one thing for an otherwise straightforward action game to try and establish a story outside of the gameplay — to provide some sort of basic context for the running and gunning to ensue. But the thing about Death Crimson is; the insights it provides into this world and the context it establishes are so profoundly strange, it begs to be expounded upon over the course of the game. And yet, it never is! We’ll likely have to chalk this up to a lack of time and budget needed for Ecole to fully realize their ambitions, especially given the number of other undercooked oddities and throwaway details littering the rest of the game. Again: Some of these facets get further developed on in the follow-up game, but we’re going to be looking at Death Crimson as a standalone title here for the purposes of reviewing it.

On firing your way past the opening FMV and a grainy gameplay demo; you’ll be greeted by a quaintly basic title screen, as accompanied by the wailing guitar work of one Kunitaka Watanabe. In a game where most nearly every aspect of the production will be coming across as adorably amateur, Kunitaka’s soundtrack stands out as… Well, truth be told, it still actually lands pretty squarely in the amateur end of the production spectrum, all things considered. But there is an undeniable earnestness to it all, and you really get the impression of a composer rocking out in full force — bringing out every flourish available in his musician’s toolkit, and cramming each layer of every track with as much as he can bring to the table. If that occasionally means an otherwise intense boss theme breaks down into a goofy MIDI horn solo, then so be it and more power to him. Y’all are highly encouraged to spin this soundtrack playlist in the background while reading the rest of this article.

The sparse title screen is followed by an equally sparse menu, providing the basic-most range of options possible. You can select from the first or second stages of the game straight away (having to unlock the third as an option by means of clearing the first two), toggle between stereo / mono sound, and configure your light gun’s calibration. There’s no difficulty settings to select from, on-screen crosshair settings to adjust, or so much as a sound test to kick back and jam out to: The game is meant to be played exactly in the way the developers envisioned it, and to suggest anything change is heresy. It should also be mentioned that the calibration screen is effectively useless, thanks to a fundamental misunderstanding of its functionality by the devs. See, in a standard light gun game, the calibration screen will typically have you place a shot dead center of your screen, and then allow you to fire a few additional shots around the screen in order to confirm that the tracking is all in order. In Death Crimson, the screen will immediately fade to black and kick you back to the main menu immediately after placing your first shot — providing no feedback as to if you’ve sufficiently calibrated or not.

That being said, the Virtua Gun is still clearly the preferred way to play: Allowing for snap aiming simply not possible with the Saturn controller’s D-pad (or the 3D Control Pad’s analog stick, for that matter), and generally lending to a more “immersive” experience as peripherals like this are meant to provide. Sticking with a controller will force unwieldy crosshair speed on you; with a built-in acceleration factor and complete inability to perform fine / smaller movements. I might go so far as to contend that beating the game with a controller might be straight-up impossible, given the sheer number and placement of enemies come some of the later stages. If neither of these options appeal to you, you may be tempted to plug in your ‘Shuttle Mouse’ — Sega’s official mouse peripheral for the Saturn in Japan.*** Unfortunately, while the game will attempt to approximate your mouse movements to the crosshair and allow you to click to shoot, it also fails to bind a reload function to any of its four mouse buttons. Needless to say, that serves as something of a deal-breaker.

Once you’ve settled on a method of input, it’s time to jump into the game. The first thing your attention will likely be drawn to are the graphics; seamlessly blending digitized 2D sprites and 3D environments together in order to compose one of the most visually compelling games on the Saturn. By which I mean, your initial reaction to the presentation will likely be something along the lines of “What the hell am I looking at?” To be clear as to what the precedent for light gun game graphics were on the Saturn: Virtua Cop the year prior had realized full 3D environments with 3D polygonal / texture-mapped characters, all while managing to run at consistent framerate. As a matter of fact, the development toolkit used to make those visuals possible (known as the ‘Sega Graphics Library’) had been made available to third-party Saturn developers as early as September 1995^[7] — though in fairness, the hardware it paired with was still notoriously difficult for even the most adept programmers to develop for. There’s also the fact that Virtua Cop was a first-party title, with the full backing and budget of Sega behind it. I reckon what I’m trying to say is, expecting Death Crimson game to meet the visual standards of its big-budget predecessor wasn’t an entirely reasonable expectation to place on Ecole. That being said: Death Crimson still rates as one of the strangest-looking video games this side of a surrealist indie title on itch.io, owing to frankly bizarre art direction and frame composition.

For one thing, the enemies you’re made to face are monsters born of humans (and maybe animals?) who have contracted the aforementioned KOT Syndrome; transforming them into either garishly colored humanoid monsters, or some other manner of entirely abstract shapes. There’s absolutely no rhyme, reason, or stylistic consistency to the variety of baddies you’ll be shooting down: Foes range from oversized scorpions, to knights in bright-shining armor, all the way to disembodied heads with blindfolds on and comically oversized lips. The last of those, by the way, have come to be known as “Snablin” (スナブリン), and serve as something like a franchise mascot alongside Echizen. In a word, all the enemy designs are decidedly abstract — the effects of which are only enhanced by the process of most of them originally being crafted as 3D polygonal models, before undergoing the process of being re-captured as digitized 2D sprites with limited animation frames. To illustrate this process: Look at the procedure used to render the characters in Donkey Kong Country for the SNES, and give then-unparalleled depth to its 2D game world. Now, imagine taking those lovingly-detailed animations, cutting them down to a maximum of two or three frames, and dropping them into a full 3D world where they no longer maintain any of that original depth or corrective perspective.

The 3D world Death Crimson depicts is one built entirely around exacting 90° angles, where near every shape is a rectangle and where buildings exist as single flat sprites that stretch ever-thinner the closer you approach. The skybox remains unmoving, static — the clouds and sun never shifting even as you spin in full circles. That said, there’s something to be appreciated about the variety of settings: In another detail that goes largely unexpounded upon within the game itself; Echizen is actually traveling to the locations where his ex-mercenary buddies are supposed to currently reside (though you never meet them at any point), which ends up taking him from scenic villas in Limburg to trips down the canals of the Greek isles, before ultimately landing near Egyptian pyramids and eventually entering an alien spaceship? So, maybe the path you wind up on loses the plot pretty quickly. But it does still make for a wild variety of genuinely distinct and eye-catching backdrops. The only problems are; some of the textures can be incredibly distracting / obfuscate your view, distant object pop-in is routinely jarring, and all the on-rail camera movements make absolutely no spatial or physical sense whatsoever. Heavy emphasis on that last point, there.

Quick little bit of game design theory: In providing players a first-person perspective – effectively placing the camera inside the eye of your game’s protagonist – you need to be acutely aware of how elevation and motion factor into that perspective. This is particularly critical in rail shooters, where players are entirely at the mercy of your planned camera tracking. Every pre-constructed jump, duck, pivot and sidestep requires forewarning and justification; in order to keep players planted firmly inside that headspace, and to make sure they’re not getting motion sick all the while. If you want to witness some masterclasses on the subject, look no further than the original Time Crisis or The House of the Dead, which both mix and balance stabilized shooting with kinetic camera movements. By comparison, Death Crimson has a nasty habit of causing absolute camera whiplash; including unprompted leaps 30 feet into the air where you’ll hover for seconds at a time, wild swings flinging you from one side of the environment to the other with no rhyme or reason, and exactly one instance where Echizen decides to do a combat roll and forces the camera to spin 360° at a dizzying speed. There’s no consideration paid here as to how all this unpredictability affects a player’s ability to aim and shoot: All Ecole was interested in was providing strange and unique camera angles — not thinking about how to naturally incorporate them.

Now, it’s high time we started discussing the subject of the shooting itself. And for our purposes here, we’re going to work under the assumption that anyone who would go out of their way to play Death Crimson would be doing so with a Virtua Gun in hand (or at the very least, some facsimile of light gun to serve as their controller).**** Without a light gun, you’re effectively doomed. And even with one, your chances still aren’t actually that much higher: There is consistent consensus that the game has difficulty properly registering and placing your shots, even after attempted calibration. For what my personal experience is worth [given my less than “accurate” set-up], it often felt like every successful shot I placed came only as the result of rapid double-tapping, where initial shots would often be erroneously logged as off-screen reloads before the follow-ups actually connected. There are a multitude of technical factors that could contribute to this: Poor indication as to when enemies and other targets are actually vulnerable, the sheer number of targetable objects simultaneously on-screen confusing the light gun’s ability to read screen scan lines, or an outright busted implementation of the programming which drives the light gun’s inputs. Most likely, a concomitant effort by these factors and possibly more.

Even if the light gunning worked entirely as intended, you’d still be looking at a decidedly difficult shooting gallery experience here. The bulk of enemies you’ll be shooting down appear out of thin air. materializing in front of you within a frame’s worth of time, before just as quickly preparing to attack. What this effectively means is that enemies can spawn anywhere within the screen at any time, without any telegraphing or warning, meaning you must constantly be prepared for as much at any given second of gameplay. To compare again to a more traditional light gun game: Even as the rails bring you into a room for the first time, there is spatial context which clues you in to where targets should (and should not) be able to appear from, allowing you to prepare in at least some way for them to appear. Doors and windows, large objects and broken walls all indicate likely entrances for enemies to enter the screen. Outside of rarer sorts of baddies with invisibility abilities or what have you, you can generally assume that you won’t have to account for threats spontaneously appearing in the center of the room from behind nothing. But of course, this isn’t the case in Death Crimson. Here, that typically restricted variety of enemy is simply the status quo.

It should also be noted that Death Crimson starts tossing five to six on-screen enemies at you at a time from the very get-go, and doesn’t relent for the rest of the game to come. Not only that, but the time between the target circle appearing [to indicate an enemy attack] and you taking damage is precisely one second — across every enemy in the game, from beginning to end. So, when you begin to account for the possibility of three or four enemies appearing out of nowhere at once, all initiating attacks at the same time, and all taking two or three shots to actually hit; you can understand how the difficulty can get a bit dicey. Oh, but I almost forgot: You also have no temporary invincibility / time to recover after taking damage, either. So, you can go from full health to game over as result of just one slip-up on a particularly populated screen. What this all contributes to is one of the most unintentionally (?) challenging trials of skill you may ever face as a rail shooter fan. With six shots in your Crimson’s magazine and an army of monsters to contend against, your trigger finger and your patience will truly be tested.

Of course, it’s not just baddies popping up in front of you, either. Aside from the rare golden “HIT HERE” ticket appearing to grant you an extra continue, or the equally uncommon golden cocoon that can replenish your health in full, there are also uninfected civilians who must be spared. If you should happen to accidentally shoot one of these identical blonde men in pink shirts, Echizen will dejectedly exclaim “Oh no!” and lose a point of health for inadvertently killing them. But even Ecole knew that repeating just that one civilian character as your sole “innocent bystander” role for the entire game would surely get tiresome. Which is why Echizen must also avoid shooting… flying squirrels. Truly, the guilt our hero might face from shooting down such an adorable animal is equivalent to the physical toll of taking a demon’s fireball to the face. I faintly recall reading some source that claimed that an initially planned / ultimately scrapped plot thread would’ve explained Echizen using squirrel blood as a serum for KOT Syndrome, or something to that effect — but I cannot for the life of me track it back down again? Look, all you really need to know is that the squirrels were originally planned to feature in their own spin-off game for the WonderSwan, before development on it got discontinued and instead lead Ecole to release a squirrel-themed arcade / Dreamcast puzzle game titled Musapey’s Choco Marker. Ecole Software, everybody!

I reckon I’ve gone and painted a pretty grim picture for your chances in the face of these overwhelming odds and obstacles. However, I’ve been saving some of the good news for last, here. For one thing, given all the enemies you’ll be facing, most of them won’t actually attack you, even as they take center screen and the incoming attack indicator appears in front of them! As it turns out, the bulk of baddies are just there to fill the screen up with opportunities for extra points and increasing your accuracy rating — assuming that they weren’t originally intended to attack you, and are simply bugged beyond the ability to do so. Learning to distinguish between the varieties of enemies that actually (usually) attack and the cannon fodder will go a ways in making your life easier. But don’t ignore those “optional” enemies, as they hold the key to your ultimate equalizer: The evolution of the Crimson.

See, in any given level, you have a meter at the bottom of the screen that you’re able to fill by landing your shots (and consequently diminish by missing), until the point where you’re able to max it out. Do this twice over, and your pithy pistol-fire will upgrade into one of four alternate fire types — depending on the level you’re playing, and which evolution is pre-selected for you in it. Now, at first, you may be dismayed to see that pulling the trigger after this evolution still fires the same single-shot semi-automatic fire you’ve been growing accustomed to. The magic only happens when you hold down the trigger, and allow a meter toward the top of the screen to fill out over the course of a second. Releasing at this point will unleash your alternate attack. The least useful of these is bound to be the ‘Machine Gun’ evolution, which allows for automatic firing of 15 rapid-fire shots as you aim across the screen. Handy enough for dealing with swarms of enemies I suppose, but it’s also liable to tank your accuracy and prevent you from filling out the evolution meter again — which can net you extra continues if you maintain accurate shooting. A better upgrade is the ‘Bomb Shot,’ which releases an on-screen explosive that can be shot again to detonate and kill every enemy on the screen. Needless to say, this can come in handy in a pinch, though the additional step of having to follow up with a second direct shot can occasionally leave the gamble to backfire on you.

What you’ll be really be wishing for is in most levels is the more straightforward ‘Missile Shot’: Unleashing a similar explosive projectile as the bomb, but one which will detonate on its own to wipe out every target in view. Hell, it’ll even kill any innocent civilians that happen to be on-screen, and for some reason the game won’t punish you for it! Consider this something like Death Crimson’s equivalent to the BFG 9000, if the BFG could also absolve you of negligent homicide? And finally for the evolved weapons – and perhaps most disappointingly – there’s this sort of laser-firing variant on the machine gun that appears only in the final on-rails level. From what I can gather, this fourth upgrade has gone largely undocumented by even some of the most thorough Death Crimson resources — likely owing to how incredibly difficult to keep up the accuracy required to unlock it in its given level. Further disappointment may arise from the fact that all these weapon upgrades are taken away from you at the end of each level; starting you off with just your standard shots come the next. It makes you wonder how differently the game would play if these weapon upgrades appeared and persisted as they do in more typical rail shooters; where they usually show up inside breakable objects, and are held onto until you take damage.

With your upgrades being taken away from you as you finish levels, that brings us to one of the game’s most curious design decisions: Transitioning from the on-rails shooting levels to the end-of-stage boss battles. Yes, each series of levels within the three larger stages is capped off with a battle against a boss monster; with Death Visnos appearing as the big bad at the end of stage three, and serving as your final battle. But these boss battles don’t just present you with more along the lines of the standard shooting gameplay: They fundamentally shake up how the game is controlled and played. For one thing, you’re stuck with your standard weapon, as your upgrades still don’t carry into these arena stages. Secondly, your remaining health isn’t a factor either, replaced instead with a singular health meter where the weapon evolution meter used to be. And perhaps most jarringly, you’re now made to manually turn and face different possible directions from where your enemies might appear, by shooting the edges of the screen in order to pivot. This last feature is clumsy at best in actual implementation, though it’s certainly a novel idea for the genre — one which I don’t believe re-appeared in a rail shooter until Time Crisis 4 some ten year later? (Someone please correct me on that.)

CORRECTION (11/12/19): And sure enough, here is that correction in question, courtesy of @The_oppOnent! As it turns out, it was Time Crisis: Project Titan on the PlayStation which first implemented this mechanic earlier in the series — way back in 2001.

These boss battles effectively serve as “DPS races,” to borrow an MMORPG term. In short, it’s not about balancing defense and offense in order to preserve yourself during these fights: It’s all about damaging these bosses faster than they’re capable of damaging you, as attempting to block or dodge their projectiles is practically pointless. And in this respect, all three boss battles rate as fairly easy — with maybe the stage one boss (apparently named “Fly Rehard?”) serving as the most difficult, due to his spawning in multiple additional enemies. The real pain for players in these battles are keeping track of where the boss is approaching from, and negotiating the camera to try and consistently face them. To this end, the developers did attempt to provide a means of making this challenge easier: In the top-right corner of the HUD, there is a persistent radar feature meant to help you track your targets. As a matter of fact, this radar appears in all the on-rails levels as well, where it is almost entirely useless / serves as little more than screen clutter. Granted, its usefulness in the boss battles is already marginal at best, as I honestly have my doubts as to the accuracy of its detection and tracking capabilities. My best results came from spinning in continuous circle until the bosses deigned to re-appear in front of me. Good enough is.

That’s pretty much all the mechanics in the game covered, by my estimation! Straightforward as rail shooters generally tend to be, there’s little else to say about the genre constants here. But of course, there’s still so much more to say about the details and decisions surrounding this core gameplay. If Death Crimson were just another busted rail shooter trying to cash in on established template, it’d likely wind up forgettable fare. But because Death Crimson was designed by amateur developers with ambitions bigger than their combined skill set – for hardware barely suited for the task of 3D software, at that – there are some truly oddball choices made on their part, which would help to guarantee the game a place in history.

One of my absolute favorite pieces of trivia is the fact that Echizen’s voice actor not only provides the unfitting voice for our main character: He’s also the voice behind all the game’s monster roster, as well. From the gnarly blue humanoids puking themselves to death, to Technicolor horses letting out their final neighs, it fell on Seijirou to perform them all with aplomb. Even in the introductory FMV, where Echizen is meant to be talking back and forth with Greg and Danny; it’s all just Seijirou putting the minimum effort into trying to distinguish these three characters from one another, and largely failing at it. Reportedly, the only direction he was given by the Ecole team was to make all these different individuals sound “as weird as possible.” That Seijirou clearly took this direction to heart even when it came time to voice the game’s human protagonist – the designated straight man to all this nonsense – is a testament to his taking directors notes to heart, and we should all thank him for it.

Did I mention already that Death Crimson features the strangest assortment of enemies ever collected in a rail shooter? By pure speculation, I figure that the KOT Syndrome responsible for turning us all into monsters is alien in origin — as is Death Visnos themselves, and the relics their species left behind on Earth. But even with that information in mind, there’s still no reconciling for how wildly differently each of these mutations seem to develop from one another; to where it can produce flying flesh orbs and grounded super-humanoids alike, with design inspirations straight out of fever dreams. I swear that half the texture / coloration choices in the game have to be the result of accidents and corruptions in whatever illustration program Ecole used to create them; and that rather than ordering the artists to try and fix them, Manabe must’ve instead said something along the lines of “I think you might be on to something there.” And when the monsters on display aren’t looking like renders out of a glitchwave music video, they’re just generally gaudy-looking instead, or so abstract as to defy description. It’s an awesome assortment of complete nonsense, and a testament to how no idea or suggestion by the staff seemed to go unused.

The “world tour” bent to the level scenery is another fascinating aspect, for both its vast variation and absolute lack of geographic continuity. Only in Death Crimson could you find yourself strolling through the daylit streets of the Netherlands before winding up at Ecole University in the dead of night, only to step inside and find yourself crossing a scenic bayside bridge at dusk. This is a game that expects you take it at face value that when you step into an unspecified colosseum, you’ll end up emerging on the other side of an alien mothership — with only sparse silver-shaded floating polygonal objects to decorate its interior. And with each of the eight distinct shooting stages accompanied by its own unique musical track – driving the action, and each attempting to suite the aesthetic in some fashion – you get a glimpse into just how epic and expansive Ecole foresaw this whole game as being perceived. I suppose they certainly succeeded in some sense?

I cannot stress enough how charming this whole package comes across. It’s plain to see it was all developed completely in earnest — entirely genuine in its intent, and undeterred by any lack of technical know-how. It’s one of the most honest examples of “so bad it’s good” media you’ll come across, and all its effort should be admired sincerely. At a certain point, you have to be willing to forgive the more obvious and easily fixable mistakes, on the merit that so much heart and passion went into every other facet of the game. So what if every other shot you fire just seems to miss? You should be thanking Ecole for giving you a reason to use that Virtua Gun in the first place. Sick of having to sit through the entire 15 seconds of Ecole’s logo every time the game starts up / you return from a game over? Hey man, it’s not their fault that you can’t appreciate fine art. Got something to say about the game’s anti-climactic ending? Take it up with the “Death Crimson Stuff,” who toiled so vigorously to bring their raw creative vision to your TV screen.

Yeah, I reckon I’d be remiss not to mention the game’s ending, huh? Spoilers ahead, but you end up shooting Death Visnos to death, and watching him sink into a pool of dark grey goo in a brief FMV cutscene. From there, you’re immediately whisked away to a credits roll printed in WordArt-embellished Times New Roman font, as introduced by a title card which misspells “Staff” as “Stuff.” If that’s not the perfect capper to the experience that is Death Crimson, I don’t know what is. With a total playthrough time averaging a little less than 50 minutes, and absolutely no unlockable bonus content to speak of, Death Crimson is a true arcade rail shooter experience through and through. All that remains after successful completion is to return to master and memorize its enemy placements, and to chase high scores ‘til you’ve reached a personal fulfillment. Obviously, that’s not a goal that every player is going to be willing to pursue, and for most the Death Crimson experience ends with seeing the names of the stuff behind the game — assuming they can even endure the game that long.

It’s easy enough nowadays to joke about the game’s flaws as features and to find humor in its half-baked state. But at the same time, we do have to acknowledge that Death Crimson once sold at full retail price, to a paying public who might have potentially bought it without knowing exactly what they would be getting themselves into. For plenty, the only comedy value they may have recognized was a costly joke at their own expense — some sort of ¥5,800 prank pulled on them by Sega and subsidiary. Measuring by pure value proposition and functionality, Death Crimson obviously rates as an absolute dud, the likes of which are rarely seen on dedicated console hardware / outside of “value” PC software. I don’t think there’s any denying that by standard game review metric, it scores a near-zero: There’s no grading category for “Charm” nestled between your standard “Graphics” and “Gameplay.”

The rail shooter genre occupies a unique space in the medium. On the one hand, it’s presented as one of the easiest genres to produce for; where all the standards and expectations are clearly defined, and where the structure is so self-contained as to allow developers as complete control over the player experience as is possible. In effect, it’s one of the hardest types of games to screw up, while also representing one of the most difficult genres for a game to stand out within. Death Crimson somehow manages the dual feat of both failing to clear some of the lowest bars imaginable, as well as serving as an entirely unique and absolutely unforgettable experience. At the end of the day, Death Crimson transcends any trappings of genre definition you might try to place on it — defying any sort of conventional evaluation, as the measures of its worth do not stem from “wealth of content” or “entertainment value.”

It takes a certain kind of perspective to appreciate the finer points of Death Crimson. For one, it takes a respect for the effort of its developers, as obviously misguided as they may have been. It takes a tolerance for the mechanical eccentricities, and a commitment to overcoming / compensating for them. Past a certain point, it may even require you to put aside your understandings of conventional game design, and the accommodations for players that come with it. If you can stomach that admittedly tall order, though, you might hopefully begin to view the game as something like a guided tour — an adventure through a collection of oddities and eccentricities, with your light gun serving as your trusty travel companion. In much the same way that a bad movie can leave you on the edge of your seat wondering what the hell is gonna happen next, Death Crimson has a full stock of tricks up its sleeve to ensure that each new screen is a surprise. And like an elaborate work of outsider art, there will always be new details to notice and pick up on with each successive playthrough. What the game may lack in depth of content, it makes up for with its density of odd details and confounding design.

** At the risk of ruining what has become perhaps the most infamous line of dialogue in the game — which has become something like a secret passphrase that Death Crimson fans can evidently use to recognize each other in public: There is, in fact, a shining red gem embedded in the archway above the green door in this cutscene.

*** In North America, our equivalent would be the ‘NetLink Mouse,’ as specifically intended for use with the system’s ill-supported NetLink internet service. It actually would end up being compatible with much of the same game software as the Shuttle Mouse; but not many folk would discover this, as not many folk ever bought the peripheral in the first place.

**** For the record: My playthroughs for the purposes of this articles saw me using a Wii Remote [connected to PC] as an impromptu light gun, while playing the game in emulation (by means of Retroarch’s “Beetle Saturn” core). While this most certainly isn’t a 1:1 representation of what it’d be like to play the game on original hardware, I reckon it’s as close as is currently possible for me given my current means.

“Death Saturn.”

Magazine page ad.

… Of course, magazines and reviewers of the era could ill afford to waste their time waxing philosophical on the subject of games transcending traditional evaluation metric. Which is to say, writers quickly took to savaging Death Crimson as if it had established all-new standards in badness. One of Japan’s leading game publications Famitsu saw fit to rate the game a total score of 14 out of 40^[8] — which, by Famitsu standards, is pretty much as low as you’ll ever see them go. Across the four collected reviews contributing to that total, comments included confusion at the spontaneously appearing / disappearing enemies, comparisons of the stilted animations to the early days of cheaply-produced anime, and general monotony stemming from poor pacing and repetition. At least one reviewer did concede that Death Crimson tested the limits of their scoring system — going so far as to wonder if it was some piece of surrealist art beyond their comprehension, or if it was all intended as a total comedy farce à la the works of comedian Hitoshi Matsumoto.

Amazingly, there does exist a proper English-language review from this era, as the UK’s Saturn Power magazine saw fit to cover the game as an import. Before you get your hopes up for anything particularly insightful, though: Reviewer Iain White fully admits to not being able to make it past the first level of the first stage, and basing their criticisms entirely on that five minutes’ worth of gameplay. By their estimate, Death Crimson had already been “doing the rounds for a while now in Japan” by the time they had gotten around to covering it (come February 1998), where its reputation as “the worst Saturn game of all time” had already been well-established.^[9] With that backstory provided, the bulk of the review simply serves as excuses to toss hyperbole at the poor thing; bemoaning it as a “worst game of all time” candidate, and claiming that it “makes your machine look like a [Commodore] VIC-20.” Needless to say, this doesn’t make for particularly valuable wealth of information, though it does help some in establishing the timeline for the game’s change in reputation.

Returning to Japan circa ’96 would see us thumbing through the pages of Sega Saturn Magazine, within which critics and readers alike were given the opportunity to weigh in on releases for the platform. By professional measure, major criticisms include the Crimson’s evolution mechanic “not being utilized to the fullest,” while “the appearances and attacks of enemies feel unusually fast.”^[10] In the lowest-scoring of three provided reviews (as submitted by “Game Mania Group” representative Ikebukuro Sarah), the writer was left to openly question whether or not Ecole were legitimately set on putting the game out; having been left to believe that all the enemy animations and colorations were the result of some sort of “bug,” before giving up on trying to describe the game in any more detail and instead pointing readers to either of the two other accompanying reviews for the game.

Sega Saturn Magazine’s readers, for their part, could only voice their complete confusion at the game they had felt compelled to purchase — questioning everything from the wild camera movements to the infamous misspelling of “Stuff.” Only one reader from this initial sampling seemed to fully recognize the “legend” status the game would soon achieve — providing that prescient quote we opened the article with. The game would quickly crash land at the bottom of the magazine’s Reader Race rankings; debuting with an average reader score of 1.0909 out of 10, and remaining safely near that bottom-most spot for the remainder of the magazine’s publication run.^[1b]** In fact, come the final tally in the final issue of SSM, it was Death Crimson who would remain cemented for all time in last / 945th place.^[4b] The statisticians could only remark on the “indestructible power of ‘The Lowest Emperor’” (one of several designated nicknames for Death Crimson), and reflect on it as a “true gem of its era (specifically, a red gem).”

Unfortunately, Ecole were being made to deal with additional type of negative feedback during this time on top of processing all this overwhelmingly negative critical reception. See, copies of Death Crimson came with “survey cards” printed inside the manual, which purchasers were encouraged to tear out and mail in in order to provide their feedback to the company. Seizing this medium to vent their frustrations, many reportedly used these cards in order to send death threats direct to Ecole — typically by filling out the writing space with singular phrases like 「死ね!」 (“Die!”) and 「殺す!」(“Kill!”) in order to make their points succinctly.^[5d] Naturally, this had the effect of making Ecole Software difficult to contact for interview / inquiry purposes over the course of the following few years, as they were forced to exist in a state of constant caution and apprehension. All they could do in this time was to keep on chooglin’,^[♫] and continue on with their Saturn development projects: Helping to supplement development of a visual novel Dream Generation: Koi ka? Shigoto ka!? in mid-1998, and taking on a commission direct from Sega to develop a “Segata Sanshirō” game later that same year — being entrusted with nothing short of the Saturn’s most iconic advertising mascot character.

The result of that latter project – Segata Sanshirō Shinkenyugi – served as a minigame compilation centered around scenes from the character’s series of television commercials. With a total of ten simple “training exercises,” paired with a series of unlockable FMVs for those commercials in question, the whole package is presented quite self-awarely as a love letter to a piece of marketing kitsch. Clearly, it was a game developed with die-hard Saturn enthusiasts in mind: The sort of folk who would know going in not to expect a high-effort or high-budget production, and who would be content largely with the novelty of the whole affair. In that sense, the hiring on of Ecole Software as developer feels like a particularly secretive inside joke — intended to elicit cheers from a crowd savvy enough to recognize what that company represented at the time. But Ecole by this point no longer just represented “the worst developer on the Saturn”: They had already begun to cultivate something like a cult reputation, among enthusiasts in search of surreal and obtuse game software. And to these players, Death Crimson had represented the absolute peak.

There’s a funny thing that might happen after having your game called “the worst of all time” and receiving critic consensus lower than almost anything seen before: Some folk might get the crazy idea in their heads to try it out for themselves. Sure enough, following Death Crimson’s reception in Japanese magazines, a demand began to swell around copies of the game — eventually leading it to sell through roughly 17,519 units by the end of the Saturn’s production run.^[4c] Sure, this wasn’t exactly an exceptional number by platform and market standards, but it was certainly enough to result in a tidy profit for the small company behind its stretched-thin development. The continued demand was even strong enough to drive up the prices on remaining copies left on game store shelves — to the point where Ecole eventually took it upon themselves to issue a limited run of reprints, which they could sell at a reduced / original retail price of ¥6,000 (adjusted for minor inflation, I reckon). And so, between April 14th and 15th of 2001, you could board the Hakata-Tokyo train line and purchase a copy of Death Crimson directly from Manabe himself — who took personal charge of distribution during this limited event.^[11]

Manabe’s direct involvement in this sort of community outreach event reflected the evolving change in perception of Death Crimson and Ecole in the years following its release. What began with the general public’s contempt and confusion for the fledgling pair eventually subsided, and gave way to the likes of fan pages and web shrines being established on the early Internet. Frequently, these pages would refer to Ecole’s developers as “Gods,” and to their headquarters as “the Holy Land” — demonstrating over-the-top expressions of reverence for the once-reviled company. A major turning point in Ecole’s relationship with its audience – a point where they began to embrace their new perception – may have been a 1999 interview conducted by the webmaster of one of these Ecole-worship webpages. Titling a trip report to Ecole’s studios as “Dialogue with God,” their write-up of the event is filled with loving references to the original game and descriptions of an altogether lighthearted and friendly encounter with Manabe and company. The enthusiastic writer was even able to sample a development build of the next upcoming Ecole game, currently being produced for Sega’s Dreamcast. It seemed that fan demand had dictated that the story of Death Crimson required continuation.

Death Crimson 2: Altar of Death released for the Dreamcast on November 25th of 1999 — again, exclusively in Japan. Within a year of the events of Death Crimson, Combat Echizen found love in a fellow medical practitioner named Lily Rosenberg, who gives birth to their daughter Yuri. 19 years later, Danny (one of Echizen’s ex-merc pals who never actually appeared in the first game) is killed in an explosion, and events are set in motion that will see Yuri working alongside freelance photographer Yanami Yasuko (an employee / associate of the other ex-mercenary, Greg) in order to combat a new wave of monsters — as well as resolving the mysteries surrounding Danny’s death and the subsequent disappearance of Lily. Needless to say, Death Crimson 2 takes its role as a sequel very seriously: Heavily referencing details from the first game, and following up on almost every thread that was initially left loose. Furthermore, in addition to the expected rail shooting gameplay; Death Crimson 2 now additionally provides extensive dialogue sections and third-person exploration, giving Ecole more opportunities to develop the strange world they established three years prior. To be clear, all the lore of the first game is taken appropriately lightly, with wink-nod references to the goofier elements presented in the original. In example: When the infamous “red door” is described again in Death Crimson 2, it’s further explained to be “a soil-colored door with red jewels,” before actually appearing in-game as a brown-colored door without so much as a single red jewel to speak of.

As much as I’d love to expound further on the fascinating details of this sequel; it unfortunately remains untranslated as of the time of this writing, and largely inaccessible as a game without the benefit of understanding the language. I can at least testify that the shooting mechanics are somewhat improved: Support for the hardware’s ‘Dreamcast Gun’ is reportedly far more functional than the experience of playing the first game with a Virtua Gun in hand. It generally feels like a generally more fair and well-balanced game, with respect to the difficulty no longer being quite so overwhelming. Additional elements including ‘Karma’ and ‘Exp’ meters (in addition to the carrying over of the Evolution meter) serve to add more depth and progression to the shooting experience, in addition to all manner of other expected rail shooter features finally being incorporated (including destructible objects and collectible items in the environment). As an additional goofy bonus feature, the game even allows you to record your own voice samples to play back as the sound effect for taking damage in-game — demonstrating Ecole’s eagerness to play with the hardware’s available additional functionality. It all adds up to a successful iteration on the original game; which manages to balance the necessary self-awareness / silliness with genuine endeavor to develop a more solid and stable release. For their efforts, Death Crimson 2 reportedly managed to sell through at least 10,588 copies (by the time of Dreamcast Magazine’s Reader Race results for March of 2001), and warrant an immediate follow-up of sorts.

Enter Death Crimson OX: Released as an arcade cabinet in October 2000, before making way to the Dreamcast in May of 2001. This time around though, North America was granted rare console access to the action later that same year — as well as additional ports of the game to the PlayStation 2 in 2003 [for Japan] and 2004 [for PAL regions], where it was re-christened as Death Crimson OX+ and Guncom 2 respectively. How Ecole were able to turn out the game in such short order comes down to the fact that Death Crimson OX is little more than a re-purposing / re-imagining of Death Crimson 2 and its assets; giving the ax to all the non-shooting gameplay, and transforming it into an entirely straightforward arcade rail shooter experience. In stripping the game down to its bare essentials and simply shuffling around the already-existing materials (as far as characters and level assets), it also made for a far simpler localization process, thereby allowing for the English-language releases on consoles. Europe probably also had the right idea by re-titling the game as Guncom 2, and attempting to sell it as a peripheral-branded budget title. At the end of the day, there isn’t much else to say about OX: It represents an attempt by Ecole to maximize the returns on labor they had put into a prior game, by streamlining it to the point where it could even stand on its own as an arcade cabinet. It’s perhaps unsurprising then that its critical reception on consoles was fairly middling, and that sales topped out at a paltry 1,038 copies sold on Dreamcast in Japan.***

At this point, the Death Crimson resurgence fad had just about came and went: You have to reckon that even the most die-hard worshipers of Death-sama weren’t looking for Ecole to start putting out annual releases in the series, and that Ecole for their part would want to move on to newer projects. Musapey’s Chocolate Marker‘s 2002 arcade release (plus subsequent ports to Dreamcast and PS2) represented the final piece of Crimson-adjacent content Ecole would release [as of the time of this writing] — as much of a departure as even that was from the core of the series. Past that launch, Ecole soon returned to the precedent they had established as a publisher for visual novels. Their next endeavor brought a hentai title from PC to Dreamcast in 2003; titled 空を舞う翼: Blue-Sky-Blue[s], and appearing on console sans adult content. Just a few months later, however, they performed a total about-face: COX-BAX would release exclusively on PC, and serve as a hardcore EOCS ’18+’ yaoi title. In the pursuit of this particular market, Ecole established a short-lived sub-label ‘GIZMO,’ with Manabe taking specific care to make sure he consulted and “interacted with different gay people.”^[2b] Evidently, this whole venture ended up being fairly short-term / non-viable; as the label was quickly retired after COX-BAX‘s debut, and their next release saw a return to hetero-normative VNs with the publishing of Utau * Tumbling Dice for Dreamcast and PS2 in 2004.

At this point, Ecole seemed stuck in their doldrums — unable to work themselves out of this stagnant rut of VN publishing. With no breakout titles to their name – save for the late-blooming fluke success of the original Death Crimson – one had to wonder if Ecole would be forced to return to their quickly-emaciating cash cow if nothing had changed? Luckily, the company would soon stumble into a lucrative opportunity, as they entered into publishing arrangement with dōjin developer ‘French Bread’ — creators of the Melty Blood fighting game series, among other independent credits. As per this arrangement, Ecole would take over publishing and distribution duties for the small dev team, beginning with Melty Blood: Act Cadenza‘s arcade debut (and subsequent PS2 port) in 2005. While still existing in a relative niche, the market for these anime fighters quickly proved to surpass that off Ecole’s visual novel works, and has since proven a steady source of income for Ecole for nearly 15 years running. French Bread and Ecole have continued to collaborate on titles in the Undernight and Dengeki Bunko fighting franchises — not to mention the ever-continuing cavalcade of Melty Blood updates and re-releases. And that’s effectively what Ecole has been up to business-wise since the mid-00s: Outside of publishing, the company has moved away from active development of their own titles. Manabe’s focus has since shifted to running vocal training programs and courses under the banner of ‘Vocal FUN Classrooms’ (「ボーカルFUN教室」).

By his current long-term planning, Manabe believes he and Ecole have one last game in them: Something combining “gun shooting and puzzles,” which he intends to develop with a “small team of enthusiastic people.” A tentative date on Ecole’s website slates the game for a 2022 release, but it honestly seems as if the game isn’t even past its pre-planning phase yet — let alone ready to announce launch windows. As for whether or not this final game might be a last entry to the Death Crimson series: The company has had a link on their homepage to a “Death Crimson 3” landing page since late 2009, which has remained largely static since its inception. All it contains is a piece of artwork of some unknown female character, with a brief bit of text suggesting that the genres encompassed will include “either FPS or TPS, with visual novel elements.” And I reckon that’s just about where the state of Death Crimson as a franchise currently stands.

… Except, of course, we’ve barely begun to touch on the continued legacy of those initial releases, and how Ecole has continued to support their fan community for roughly the past twenty years running. See, just because Manabe and company got tired of making Death Crimson games doesn’t mean they ever stopped encouraging their fans to keep the torch lit for them. As a matter of fact: In the wake of that aforementioned meet-up the company had with that superfan in 1999 – the “Dialogue with God” guy, if you’ll remember – they had treated the day as their official celebration of the series’ third anniversary, and made plans to organize further sorts of meet-ups in the future. By my measure, the first properly organized Death Crimson fan event would occur in 2007; where roughly 40 “Crimsoners” gathered in Itami City’s Cultural Hall in order to meet with Manabe himself.^[13] This is also the event where Seijirou made his public debut, to the surprise and delight of those gathered. By all accounts, it was all an incredibly informal affair, where everyone was encouraged to make friends and speak openly with the God who created their shared idol of worship. At some point, Manabe even claimed that he wanted to make a rail shooter for the Wii – which was met with raucous laughter and applause from the crowd – though unfortunately, no game ever actually came of this.

From this point forward, Ecole sought to up the ante with their upcoming annual events. Next year’s meet-up would come to be known as “Death Cruise 2008”; where Manabe, Seijirou, and 40 attending Crimsoners shared a shuttle bus to stop at a series of sight-seeing opportunities and picnic with one another — sharing prepared “Death Lunch Boxes.” Additionally, Manabe would distribute print copies of a 250 semi-autobiographical novel he had written about the development of Death Crimson, entitled ‘Freeze! – Death Crimson Resonance -’ (「フリーズ！ーデスクリムゾン・レゾナンスー」). Having since been freely posted online, it can be testified to that most of the story told is complete and utter pisstake: It’s a mock account of events where Combat Echizen is depicted as a real person and influence on Manabe, which goes on to describe how the development team behind the game shared nightmares and hallucinations depicting details to be implemented into the game. It’s reportedly well worth a read if you have a handle on the language, and does share some occasional genuine insights into the creative process. However, the main event of the 2008 meet-up came after a short ferry ride towards the end of the trip; where attendees were taken to none other than Fort Yuma, and the location of Death Crimson’s opening FMV. Truly a day to remember for all involved, and an inspiration for further individuals to make their own pilgrimages to the iconic site.

To rapid-fire through the next several years of annual meet-ups: “Death Cave 2009” involved another shuttle bus tour, this time culminating with a visit to the Ikuno Ginzan silver mines — the inspiration for a series of stages in Death Crimson 2 / OX. “Death Jetty 2010” was a two-day event beginning with a stay and play day at a hotel in Nishinomiya city (referred to as “Crimson Base Nishinomiya” by those in attendance), before traveling the next day to a military garrison in Itami which was celebrating a concurrent Japan Self-Defense Force public event. At some point, the group also traveled to the nearby Itami Insect Museum — apparently on the basis that it seemed like a fun sight-seeing idea. Come “Death Island 2011,” Manabe and attendees would travel to Inujima island — famous as a site for numerous art installations and standing classic architecture. The gimmick for that year’s event was a “Cat Shooting Tournament,” wherein participants were encouraged to shoot photos (you can breathe a sigh of relief now) of stray cats inhabiting the island, and where the Crimsoner to capture the most cats on camera would be declared the winner. For historical reference: There were a pair of winners when results were tallied (aliases “T.S” and “斑猫”), who had each managed to photograph four cats each. This would lead to “Death Hiking 2012” — held as a private event, with invitations apparently extended to an exclusive few. Needless to say, this event centered around a hiking trail; spanning across Takarazuka City to Nijo Station, and totaling somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 hours of walking.

Sadly, 2012 is apparently where the annual meet-ups came to an end. Between diminishing attendance and what feels like Manabe’s fading interest in the game industry, it was inevitable that the yearly events wouldn’t last in perpetuity. However, this didn’t immediately indicate Ecole’s abandoning the “live event” business: The company had also been organizing an additional series of events since 2010 under the premise of an “eSports ranking battle tournament” known as ‘Hydra GP,’ with competitions centered on fighting games across Ecole’s publishing catalogue. Though these events hardly constitute as Death Crimson-themed, there was apparently a long-running “Combat Echizen Cup” series (centered around the Under Night In-Birth series), tying tidily into Ecole’s company history. The last Hydra GP event to date was held on November 25th, 2016, with Under Night In-Birth Exe:Late serving as the focal title. Likely uncoincidentally: The 2015 release of Exe:Late has served thus far as the last major installment in an Ecole-affiliated fighter franchise. And despite continued support and ports for this title continuing well into 2018, these don’t necessarily constitute continued competitive interest in the game — at least not on a level where Ecole can afford to continue running their own tournaments centered solely around it.

But just because Ecole has begun to wind down their operations doesn’t mean that the love for Death Crimson has wound down with them. The fan community around Death Crimson which has existed since the game’s inception have continued to demonstrate their appreciation and admiration in the two plus decades since; by spreading its gospel, allowing it to inspire their art, and still referring to the game as the “Emperor of Kusogē” all these years later. Among the most devoted, you may even find some who continue to hold on to the holiest of totems: The blessed “Death Saturns.” Begun as a stunt by one “Combat Hashimoto” in 1999, the Death Saturn is the result of permanently gluing a Virtua Gun and a copy of Death Crimson inside of a Sega Saturn (as well as additionally gluing the lid shut) — effectively cursing blessing it with an existence of being able to play no other game than Death Crimson. At the end of the original page, the author goes on to announce a future plan to glue the infamous fighter FIST inside another Saturn (along with a ‘Virtua Stick Pro’ controller), but this endeavor never actually seemed to materialize. What’s incredible though is that – after Hashimoto’s lark landed him in the pages of Dreamcast FAN magazine – other Crimsoners began to follow in his example, and to mirror his show of devotion to Death.

This act would later inspire perhaps one of the most unique monuments to Death Crimson — one which still stands and operates today. Come 2004, artist [and eccentric] Sumi Takamasa would open ‘The Wonder Museum’ within the mountains of Fukuoka, as a collection of his assorted works. With a penchant for sculptures in particular, Sumi would approach Ecole with a proposition: To collaborate on a scaled-up replica of the gun Crimson (as it appears in Death Crimson 2, specifically), and engineer it to where it could work as a functional light gun turret. Naturally, this sculpt would attach to a further fancified Death Saturn (embedded within the gun) and to a comically smaller CRT television, so that the devoted and the curious alike could try their luck at the legendary game with this equal-parts extraordinary controller. Manabe himself would visit to bless the exhibit the following year, and to give his own creation a shot on this monster contraption. Reportedly, his first attempt lasted just roughly 15 seconds — going to show that not even God himself can always contend with what he hath wrought. As mentioned earlier; the museum and the attraction are still open to visitors to this day, so that the faithful can still make their mission to it. I hear that their on-site cafe is quite nice, too.

Perhaps my favorite trajectory to track in the wake of the franchise’s hey-day is that of Kunitaka Watanabe’s continued musical career. Of course, Kunitaka had been a musician prior to his contributions to the Death Crimson soundtrack, and would continue unabated in his pursuits afterward. However, his career outside of game arrangements would see something of a renaissance once he began to embrace his work on the OST, and to post studio performances of said music to YouTube beginning in 2014. As he continued to remix and rearrange these tracks – taking care to point out that “the game is FUCKING, but the music is AMAZING” – he would eventually seek and receive blessing to release a full album of Death Crimson soundtrack remasters, appropriately titled “Death Crimson Soundtracks.” I ended up buying the thing as a digital download off of Amazon, and I’ll tell you what: It was genuinely well worth it. Hearing these tracks as they may have originally sounded in Kunitaka’s head – before the Saturn’s YMF292 and limited instrumentation had their way – is something like an ear-opening experience. One hopes that the Crimsoners will continue to support Kunitaka and his career — and that one day, the man may return to score Death Crimson 3, should it ever come to fruition.

Obviously though, all this niche popularity and proto-meme notoriety can only get the word of Death Crimson out so far. For as much a staple of Japanese game magazine lore as it has proven to be, and for as inside a joke it may remain within the imageboard / Nico Nico Douga culture, that doesn’t do much to continue the spread of its name across the globe. No, getting the words on everyone’s lips would clearly require something a bit more “mainstream.” And so, it was with the season finale of gag-comic-turned-syndicated-anime Pop Team Epic that most folk would finally be exposed to Death-sama: With an episode opening that recreated the game’s FMV intro shot-for-shot, nailing most every odd nuance and providing no context or explanation as to why the hell they were doing so. It proved strangely compelling enough a series of audio and visuals to inspire many viewers to do further research — even including viewership outside of Japan, where a run of the show on Crunchyroll had also managed to resonate with a primarily English-speaking audience. Curiosity could lead viewers down the veritable rabbit hole of Saturn history, an incredibly devoted fan community, and futures for a game developer which defied all expectations.

It obviously goes without saying that much of the “fanfare” around Death Crimson is ironic — that devotees with their Death Saturns aren’t exclusively playing just this one game for the rest of all time. But that doesn’t mean that the admiration isn’t rooted in at least some genuine sentiment: There really is a lot to love about the game, and the culture surrounding it. Ecole’s earnestness demonstrated in developing the game would continue to shine for years to come, as witnessed in the form of their earnestness and eagerness to interact with and befriend fans. For as absolutely unattainable and incomprehensible as their vision may have been in 1996, what they did manage to produce still warrants appreciation —  even from the most cynical sort of folk, with their hearts three sizes too small. And for their part, the fans’ appreciation for and devotion to this goofy little rail shooter is some of the most enthusiastic and fervent you’re likely to find — promoting a sense of positivity and openness that feels increasingly more rare in modern day and age. So, while I may not be a card-carrying, Death Saturn-owning member of the community [yet]; I still feel a sense of shared belonging with them, on the merit of my mutual respect for the game at the center of it all. I want to believe that this sub-culture will only continue to grow in the future, and that all its members new and old should uphold its positive principles.

I asked at the top of this article whether or not Death Crimson should still hold the crown as Emperor of Kusogē. Now, objectively, there have certainly been worse games that have come before and after it; in terms of pure bustedness, as well as lack of care. But “care” is a key word there: Ecole genuinely cared for and intended to provide so much entertainment to players with this game of theirs, and that effort comes through with every frame of gameplay. There’s a big difference between a game trying to cash a quick buck, and another game trying to stretch every dollar and iota of effort exerted — even if both can end similarly disastrously. For what it’s worth, I struggle to think of another bad game which wears quite so much of its heart on its sleeve, or which the developers behind have continued to pour so much into continuing to foster the community for post-release. And all this in the face of such an overwhelmingly disheartening initial reception: Between death threats and critical dismissal, and all the stressors in-between? Ecole and Manabe can only be commended for continuing to stick with things in the wake of all that, where others might rightfully call this whole wretched industry quits. If all that isn’t enough to earn Death Crimson the distinction as our lowest emperor, I don’t know what is.

“せっかくだから、デスクリムゾンはクソゲーの帝王
(Because it’s so difficult, Death Crimson is the Emperor of Kusogē).”

** For reference: When Death Crimson first took last place in a line-up of 297 then-current contenders, the title it had taken the bottom spot from was Great Adventure St. Elmo’s Miracle — with an average reader score of 2.5227 rating a whole point and a half higher than this new last place entrant. Believe you me: St. Elmo’s Miracle will eventually have its day on this website as well.

*** You may additionally attribute some of this dismal sales data to the fact that the Dreamcast, by this point, was on its way out as an active console. While that’s most certainly a contributing factor; I’d also point to the fact that within the niche audience who would have interest in a new Death Crimson title, most would already own the previous / more feature-rich installment, or be more than content with the novelty of playing OX in the arcade space.

Acknowledgements

I feel compelled to state for the record that researching and writing this article represented one of the most challenging efforts in the history of this website thus far, and that the nearly three months I’ve spent on it have likely cumulatively cost me years off of my lifespan. The next time I get the fool idea in my head to be the first person in the English-language community to document a Japan-exclusive release** — one with nearly no presence or awareness outside of its country of origin? If one of you guys could kindly knock me upside the head as a reminder not to do it, it’d be greatly appreciated.

Anyhow: The purpose of this addendum is to acknowledge some of the resources I utilized in researching Death Crimson. Not all of them ended up being citable as sources due to various circumstances and context, so I’m presenting them here instead to make sure that all credit is attributed to where it’s due.

• Land of Obscusion: The Death Crimson Retrospective That Destroys Your Soul!
• Mimidoshima: Toward A Creative Kusoge Subculture
• (JP) Game Catalog @Wiki: Death Crimson
• (JP) HELTER-SKELTER: Death Crimson Glossary
• (JP) Kyoto University Historical Society Blog: Introduction to “Death Crimson”
• (JP) Mochiko: Kusoge Diary ~ Death Crimson ~
• (JP) Naver: Beloved by fans… What is the worst kusoge in history?
• (JP) Nico Nico Pedia: Death Crimson
• (JP) Omnitu.jp: Death Crimson
• (JP) Mat’s Death Crimson link collection

** Of course, I’m well aware that I’m not actually the first English-speaking enthusiast to discover and talk about Death Crimson. Quite frankly, I’d have likely never even heard about the game if not for discussions of it on English-language parts of the web — with my first exposure to it probably occurring on a particular imageboard in 2007?

[1] ^b 「セガサターン読者レースVol.33」 “Sega Saturn Reader Race Vol.33.” Sega Saturn Magazine, Vol. 20. Soft Bank. November 22, 1996. Print. (Scan available)
[2] ^b “Creators #114: Ecole Software President Kenyuki Manabe.” Gpara.com. June 26, 2003. Web. (Archive)
[3] 「セグサーンンフトレビュー」 “Sega Saturn Soft Review.” Sega Saturn Magazine, ‘1995-12.’ Soft Bank. December, 1995. Print. (Scan available)
[4] ^{b c} 「読 者 レ ース FINAL ?」 “Reader Race Final (?).” Dreamcast Magazine, ‘Sega Saturn Final Data.’ Soft Bank. March, 2000. Print. (Scan available)
[5] ^{b c d} “Interview: Yoshiyuki Manabe.” 『超クソゲーrevolutions』 [Super Kusoge Revolutions]. Ota Publishing. September, 2003. Print.
[6] 「デスクリムゾン2」 “Death Crimson 2.” 『クイック・ジャパン』 [Quick Japan], Vol. 24. April, 1999. Print.
[7] “Sega’s Plan of Attack.” Next Generation, Vol. 9. September, 1995. Print. (Scan available)
[8] Frustratingly, I’ve not been able to track down which volume of Weekly Famitsu this review actually originates from. By my estimation, it’s gotta be from somewhere between issues 399 and 402 — but we won’t know for sure until scans are made available (or outside verification can lock this info down).
[9] “Import Reviews: Death Crimson.” Saturn Power, Vol. 10. Future Publishing. February, 1998. Print. (Scan available)
[10] 「セグサーンンフトレビュー」 “Sega Saturn Soft Review.” Sega Saturn Magazine, ‘1996-13.’ Soft Bank. July, 1996. Print. (Scan available)
[11] Kitamura, Takakazu. 「を重版全国縦断イベント『デストレイン-死の新幹線-』を開催」 “Nationwide Limited Event ‘Deathtrain-Shinkasen of Death.” GAME Watch. April 6, 2001. Web.
[12] 「ド リ ー ム キ ャ ス ト ソ フ トパ ー フ ェ ク ト カ タ ロ グ」 “Dreamcast Software – Perfect Catalogue.” Dreamcast Magazine, ‘2001-8.’ Soft Bank. March 16th, 2001. Print. (Scan available)
[13] 「エコールファン感謝祭に”せっかくだから”ファンが集結！」 “Fans gathered for the Ecole ‘Fan Appreciation’ Day!” Famitsu. August 11th, 2007. Web.